Nightmares
by Creator-Chaos
Summary: SVU xover The SVU of Central have a new case when Edward is violently raped and left on the street. The investigators aren't sure how to deal with torn friends and two adults who've joined them, but they might be needed as Ed recovers from his ordeal...
1. Chapter 1

(Disclaimer: who invented these things, anyway? I mean, who really decided that everyone had to state that they did not have the rights to something? It's kind of "Duh!" isn't it? Oh, don't own FMA or SVU.)

(AN: Hello, all! It's been so long since I've seen your smiling faces! I'm extremely excited and nervous to be putting up this story. You see, this is my first non-con. I've had the interest for a while now- just look at my favorites- but have overall grown tired of the stereotypical non-con, in which it's not really rape, it's just sex where one person happens to be unwilling. So, I am writing a _real_ non-con, with phychological scarring and everything. The fact that it's crossed over with _Law and Order: Special Victims Unit_ might give you a better idea of what that entails [though if you haven't seen it, it won't interfere with the story too much. The rating is for somewhat graphic rape and accurate vocabulary. Oh, and please don't judge the first chapter too harsh- I should have the second up relatively soon, and I don't like the first chapter all that much. It had to be done for introductions.)

Roy stared blankly at the phone as it rang. It was too early, much too early, for anyone to be calling his office. That's why he was there at seven in the morning; he needed to get some damn paperwork done without being interrupted so that he could make it to the meeting this afternoon so that he could get in with the higher-ups so he could become Fuhrer President. Obviously, therefore, answering this phone call could jeopardize his chances at becoming the Fuhrer. When put like that, it seemed right, no, _necessary_ to let the phone ring until the answering machine could pick up. Satisfied with his reasoning, Roy returned to glaring at his paperwork, until-

"Please… Roy, please…"

The broken, sobbing voice wrenched his heart and chilled his spine. Roy lunged for the phone, knocking over his cup of coffee in the process. "Ed, what's going on?" There was a round of shaking sobs. "Ed!"

"P…please," he choked between sobs. "Help…"

Roy was already out of his chair and edging around his desk, trying to stay close enough to the phone for the cord to reach. "Where are you?"

After several attempts Ed forced out a street name; Roy turned around to summon someone, but both Hawkeye and Havoc were already peering in his door, alerted by his previous exclamation. Roy gestured for them to enter. "Just stay where you are, okay? I'll be right there!"

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The street was only a five minute drive from headquarters, but it was still too long. Roy ran all possible circumstances through his head as they went: Al had been killed, Ed had lost another limb, that blond friend had been killed…. It was a small street. Roy stepped out of the car as soon as Havoc pulled it to a stop, Hawkeye right behind him.

They found Ed curled over in the phone booth where he'd called from. Roy had seen him in bad shape before: that fight with Scar; random times he'd returned from missions with shattered automail and bandaged head. None of them compared to his condition now.

His automail was gone: his right sleeve and lower left pant leg hung limp. His remaining foot was bare. His clothing was plastered to his skin with blood in more areas than not; Roy could smell the metallic scent in the air. Blood matted his hair in random blotches. His lips were swollen and pulpy. There was a large, flowering bruise on his left cheek; the upper edge was oozing blood where flesh had been mashed against bone, and myriad other cuts and bruises covered all visible parts of his body. His eyes bore dark circles from blood loss, and… Roy didn't want to contemplate the despair that spilled over with his tears.

"Oh, crap," Havoc breathed as he reached them.

Roy snapped out of his shock. "Get the car for me!" He grabbed Ed's arm, but quickly let go as Ed suppressed a scream. Trying more gently, he picked him up and carried him back to the car as Hawkeye got the door and assisted him in laying Ed across the back seat while Ed whimpered softly. Hawkeye stayed in the back with Ed as Roy and Havoc got in. "Take us to the hospital," Roy murmured to Havoc.

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Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler walked the hospital halls next to Dr. Louwer, a woman in her mid-thirties with a loose black bun. "He was practically hysterical when he was brought in here; we had to give him an anesthesia just to treat him. I ran a rape kit after I noticed severe injuries to his anus. We found residue of semen there and vaginal fluid on his penis. None of his clothing was torn or damaged, and I've already set them aside for evidence. He's missing his automail, too. We already took pictures of his injuries; we should be able to get them to you tomorrow. Colonel Mustang is in the waiting room. I already told him about the… situation."

"Thank you," Elliot nodded to the doctor, opening the door to the waiting room with Elliot behind her.

The colonel was sitting in a chair amidst the other inhabitants of the room, elbows on his knees and head face-down in his hands. "Colonel Mustang?" Olivia questioned. The man looked up and stood in one fluid movement. His face was carefully blank.

Both investigators saluted briefly. "I'm First Lieutenant Benson, this is First Lieutenant Stabler. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" Mustang nodded stiffly.

"I'm going to check evidence," Elliot told Olivia; she nodded, leading Mustang to a corner of the room where they wouldn't risk being overheard.

"You're the one who brought Edward in, aren't you?"

"Right. I was at the office early, and he called me. I went to get him as soon as he gave me the street name."

"He called you?"

"Yah." Something flashed across his face; it passed, but his voice had changed. "He was crying. I haven't heard him cry since he was twelve."

"Can you tell us where you found him?"

"Sure." Mustang jotted down an address in a book he pulled from his pocket, tore out the page, and handed it to Olivia. "He was in a phone booth right outside there. I already had the MPs tape it off and gather evidence, since I knew he'd been attacked… before I knew he'd been…" Mustang drew and released a shuddering breath, then looked Olivia in the eye. "I want on this case."

Olivia was taken aback. "What?"

"I'm his superior officer; I have the right to be part of any investigation involving a subordinate."

"Yes," Olivia said slowly, "but- I really don't think that would be a good idea. You have a previous relationship with Edward."

"And?"

"Working this case would be very difficult. It would be best-"

"I want in."

Olivia sighed. "Take it up with Captain Cragen, then. The head of our unit," she added when he looked blank.

"Alright, I will. Anything else?"

"Yes. It's procedure to get DNA from family members and, in military cases, officers the victim was in close contact with."

Revulsion filled his previously mask-like face. "You… you think that…"

"We don't think anything yet, Colonel Mustang. It's just procedure to check people that were close to the victim."

Mustang nodded slowly. "Right. Okay. I'll get my subordinates to give some DNA. The only family he has is his younger brother, but… you don't need his DNA," he finished awkwardly, looking slightly worried.

Olivia chose to accept his statement for now, instead focusing on a more important matter. "We'll need DNA from your female subordinates, too."

Mustang stared at her blankly for a moment, then exploded with "Son of a bitch!" as he violently raked his fingers through his hair. After a few heavy breaths, he muttered quietly, "A friend of Ed's is visiting him and Al. Do you want hers too?"

Olivia was a bit surprised at his readiness to offer up people for testing. "That would be helpful."

"Right." Mustang stood up straighter and rolled his shoulders back. "I should go tell them, then."

Olivia nodded to him. "We'll be in touch soon, Colonel." She left through the doors she entered, going to find Elliot and see what sort of evidence they had. She hoped there was something solid and obvious; the conversation she'd just had hadn't been what she was expecting.

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Roy walked out of the hospital into the darkened parking lot to his car. He'd driven here by himself; Al and Winry, visiting from Resembool, had stayed in the waiting room until mid-afternoon, when Roy came by and convinced Al (after much arguing and worrying) to take Winry and wait at the hotel with the assurance that Roy would tell him as soon as he found out anything.

As Roy slid into the driver's seat, he sighed heavily and leaned on the steering wheel.


	2. Chapter 2

(Disclaimer: don't own FMA or SVU)

(AN: Here's chapter two! I'm quite happy with my update speed, though it might not be so fast with all I have to do for school. I should be doing homework right now, in fact. Oh, and thanks to everyone who did anything with my story, be it reviews or favorites or alerts. I got so giddy! Please review if you didn't before, and if you did. I so appreciate anyone who likes this story.)

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"Colonel!" Al exclaimed as soon as Roy walked in the door. "What happened? Is Ed okay?" Winry looked up from where she'd been lying face-down on the couch.

"He… he's stabilized," Roy replied, walking forward and falling into a chair. He thought he'd have to be sitting for this.

"Have they talked to Ed yet? Do you know what happened, who did it?" Winry asked hastily.

"…Ed is still unconscious," Roy answered hesitantly. He had to tell them, that's all there was too it; the longer he delayed, the harder it would be. "But they have an idea of… what happened."

"What do you mean? You have a lead?"

"Um… the doctor found residue on him, and certain injuries, that can… suggest the circumstances…" Roy trailed off, losing his nerve at their attentive silence.

"What 'residue'?" Al asked slowly. "You mean like gunpowder or something?"

A filthy euphemism popped into Roy's head, and he had the sudden urge to be sick. "No," he said a bit too firmly, then spit out before he could let himself think, "Edward was raped." He closed his eyes after saying this, but not before seeing Al, who had previously been consumed by nervous motions, go suddenly still, and Winry's mouth drop open in shocked horror.

"…Wha… What do you mean by that?" A; asked in obvious denial.

Winry followed almost immediately with the exclamation, "How?! By whom?!"

Roy felt he should reply to that in some way, so he told them just about the only thing he knew. "They think it was a man and a woman." There was a silence after this statement, so he chanced opening his eyes; Al hadn't twitched from his previous position, and tears were welling up in Winry's eyes.

"You mean, he was hurt like that because he… because someone… _they _did that too him?" Winry asked in a strangled voice.

Winry only knew that Ed was "hurt like that" because Roy had filled them in before he had been told what happened; he was now very glad that they hadn't actually seen Ed. "Yes."

"They raped him," Al finally said as if he were considering the explanation. "They raped him, and beat him, and left him on the street."

Roy's stomach determinedly curled itself in a tight ball. He stood up abruptly, then, unsure of what to do with himself, leaned against the wall. When there had been silence for awhile, it dawned on him that they probably didn't want him here. He turned to leave them alone with whatever the hell they were feeling, but was stopped by a small exclamation from Al. "Oh! I… I need to tell Teacher, don't I?" he asked, and a faint amount of worry had actually worked its way into the numb voice.

"I'll do it," Roy said spontaneously, wanting to save the boy any suffering he could. Al nodded vaguely.

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"We've got the pictures from the hospital," Olivia said the next morning as she spread them over the desk.

"Bastard really did a number on him," Elliot commented grimly, viewing the gruesome images. Olivia started to say something, but at that moment Major Cragen approached them, followed by an unshaven and exhausted-looking Colonel Mustang.

"Elliot, Olivia," Cragen announced with obvious sarcasm, "Colonel Mustang has graciously offered his services in helping solve this case."

Both Elliot and Olivia looked taken aback. Mustang shot them all dirty glares that didn't quite have the effect he'd hoped for, as he broke into a long yawn halfway through. He stepped toward the table where Elliot and Olivia were congregated; Elliot looked back at it, but Olivia stepped back slightly and addressed Cragen in low tones. "What is he doing here?"

"Well, I understand that _you're _the one that instructed him to talk to me."

"I thought you could convince him to stay out of this!"

"You and me both," Cragen muttered. "Look, he's a state alchemist; he can stir things up quite a bit if we don't cooperate. It'll be easier to deal with him following you around than with him making trouble trying to find out what we're doing."

Olivia scowled, but Cragen was already walking away, and she had no choice but to turn back to where Mustang and Elliot were examining the pictures.

Mustang's throat was working convulsively; he looked as if he were trying very hard to swallow something very slimy and disgusting. His mouth formed silent words for a moment before he let out a shuddering breath, inhaled another, and asked rather blankly, "How could they do this?"

Olivia instinctively put a hand on Mustang's shoulder; he didn't react. The thought that he might now see reason and give up on tagging along didn't give her as much satisfaction as it should have. His eyes were running along the rows of pictures again and again; they seemed to skip over ant photos that included images of Edward's privates, as if it would be an invasion of his privacy to look at such things. His eyes were repeatedly drawn, however, to two photos of Edward's inner thighs. Elliot noticed his line of vision and, grabbing the medical notes, acted as if he were answering Mustang's previous question.

"Severe finger-shaped bruising to both inner thighs." Elliot read off cruelly. Olivia shot him and enraged glare over Mustang's shoulder, but his eyes didn't leave the notes. "Most probably inflicted by assailant prying apart victim's legs while victim attempted to keep them closed."

Mustang looked positively stricken. Olivia looked nonplussed at Elliot's behavior. Elliot simply gazed at Mustang with a calm and challenging gaze. Olivia thought Mustang was close to crying, but when he looked up from the photos and met Elliot's gaze, his face became very blank; he looked like he had when she first spoke to him ast the hospital. "I did not question Alphonse or Winry when I informed them that Fullmetal had been attacked, as I am not trained in interrogation and I was then not a part of this case. I would suggest that you talk to them first, as they were the last to see him before he was attacked."

"Do we know if Edward is out of intensive care yet?" Olivia asked, not wanting to give Elliot another chance to do what she thought he was doing.

"He's not," Mustang replied stiffly. Olivia and Elliot looked at him; he responded with an almost sulky tone, "I went over there this morning before I came here."

"Right," said Elliot, which could have meant anything.

"Why don't you get Alphonse and Winry over here for questioning?" Olivia interjected, putting a hand on Mustang's arm to direct him away from the table before the pictures could catch his eye again.

"Of course. I'll go call them now."

Olivia made sure that Mustang was well out of earshot before rounding on Elliot. "_What_ was _that_?"

"What was what?" Elliot returned sketchily.

"You were- I don't even know- torturing him!"

"I was just testing him."

"Testing him? Did you suspect him?" she asked incredulously.

"I might. His motives, anyway."

"His motives? His subordinate, who also happens to be a fifteen-year-old, was just gang raped! What do you think his motives are?"

"Like you just said, his subordinate. How many military-based cases have we done?"

"Quite a few."

"And if the victim's superior officer wasn't the perp, what did they do?"

Olivia shrugged. "Yelled at us for not catching the perp fast enough and making them look bad."

"So, seeing as Mustang is not yelling at us, and is in fact doing what appears to be trying to help us, but could jeopardize the investigation-"

"So he's stupid, he doesn't have ulterior motives. This is no time for your personal vendetta against state alchemists."

"I do not have a vendetta against state alchemists, be it personal or otherwise!"

Olivia sighed, turning away. She wasn't going to argue that point again. "Look, you didn't talk to him."

"Should I have?"

"You'd understand if you had. He's not covering up anything, he's not trying to look good."

"Then what is he doing?"

"Is it so hard to believe that he might care about Edward?"

Elliot looked ready to reply, but just then a loud noise issued from the door and Mustang entered. It was obvious from the deliberate noise and the way he stared ahead without looking at either of them that he'd heard at least some of what they'd said. "Winry and Alphonse will be arriving shortly," he informed them coldly.

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_I don't know. I was tired from the train ride, so I went to bed earlier than Ed and Al. They were still up when I went to my room… oh God, I was asleep when…_

_He was on the balcony when I went to bed. Colonel Mustang called us in the morning before we could notice he was gone._

The first account had been fragmented by tears and hysterics; the second had been dry, detached, and monotonous. Neither had been helpful. This irked Roy to no end, but both Elliot and Olivia seemed to expect this.

"We'll know more as soon as Edward is able to talk to us," Olivia had told him, apparently trying to be comforting.

Unfortunately, talking to Ed was one of the things making Roy so anxious. He hadn't seen him since he pulled him out of the telephone booth. Now that he knew what had happened, that event had evolved in his mind to some pre-apocalyptical foreshadowing. He couldn't rid his thoughts of the bloody, bruised, tear-drenched boy, the way he'd screamed when Rot first touched him. If Roy was being perfectly honest with himself, he still didn't truly believe that Ed had been raped, if for no other reason than the proud, haughty, untouchable kid he had known was incompatible with the broken child he'd seen. He'd looked into those eyes and seen no way of repairing the shattered pieces he'd seen there; therefore, it simply could not have happened.

His subconscious believed this, but the Roy that lived at the forefront of his mind artificially accepted the facts, and so wanted revenge. The unrealism of Ed's rape and the reality of the thirst for vengeance were doing much to unbalance Roy. That overheard conversation hadn't helped either; the thought that he would intervene in the investigation was despicable, but the thought that he was the perpetrator was disgusting, nauseating, beyond comprehension. The thought that human beings could do this to people, let alone children, was… Roy yanked his thoughts back to the conversation he was supposed to be listening to.

"…results for several days," Elliot was saying. "It figures, though, the lab just doesn't have enough alchemists to keep up with testing. But the hospital called," he directed at Roy, giving him an unreadable glance. "They say Ed is out of ICU and resting, and that we can talk to him this afternoon."

Roy's heart gave a feeble jolt from somewhere in his esophagus. "Ah," he replied as calmly as he could, "who's going to be questioning him?"

Elliot glanced at Olivia and shrugged. "Probably me."

Roy wasn't sure how much he liked the idea of a man who'd said what Elliot said about him interrogating Ed, but left well enough alone. "So, what do we do until then?"

"There's really nothing more we can do for now," Olivia told him. "You look frazzled, Colonel; you should get some rest. We'll call you when we go to the hospital."

"No," Roy sighed, shaking his head. "There's something I need to do first."

"Colonel-"

"It's okay. I promised Al that I'd tell their teacher."

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Roy was very tempted to hang up the phone as soon as he heard, "Hello? Curtis residence," but gripped the phone tighter.

"Hello, Mrs. Curtis? This is Colonel Roy Mustang, from Central."

"Ed's Colonel?" Izumi asked skeptically. From somewhere far away, Roy felt a twinge of annoyance at being called so. "What are you calling about?"

"Well… Edward was attacked, Mrs. Curtis, and Alphonse felt that you should be informed," he answered as steadily as he could.

"… They never tell me anything…" she responded slowly, suspicion and worry building. "Is Ed not going to be alright?"

"No, he'll be…" Roy wanted to say "fine", but wasn't so sure about that. "He was removed form ICU today without any permanent injuries. But…" he called up his figurative balls and told her. "He was raped, Mrs. Curtis."

A dead silence followed for so long that Roy thought she had hung up the phone. He was close to doing the same when she finally replied. "I'll take a train today. I should be able to make it to Central HQ by late tonight or early tomorrow."

"A-alright," Roy answered somewhat timidly. The other line clicked off before he reciprocated and sighed in relief. That had gone much better than he'd expected.


	3. Chapter 3

(AN: Yay, third chapter! Thanks so much to anyone who's reading. There's a few things I need to say at the end of this chapter, so please read the AN at the bottom when you're done with this chapter. Before you read, though, I need to say something: this has several OCs. Yes, I know: crossover plus OCs almost always equal terrible story. But these aren't "I'm putting myself and my friends into my fanfic" OCs. These are necessary for the plot- you'll understand once you read this chapter. [besides, I wouldn't be friends with any of these people- you'll see. Thank you again for reading, and read the bottom afterward!)

(Disclaimer- I don't own FMA or SVU. I do own... five people in this story. I'm ashamed to admit to four of them.)

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"Why haven't you called me in yet?" a girl asked, approaching Elliot and Olivia's desks. She had dark red hair past her shoulders and hazel eyes.

"What do you mean?" Elliot asked as she sat on the edge of his desk. "We haven't even interviewed the victim yet!"

"I know. I want to interview him."

"Aubrey, are you kidding?" Olivia asked. "Why do you want to get involved?"

Aubrey shrugged. "I'm getting intrigued. Besides, the press will like it- I am the only psychologist working for the State that ever gave them a decent story."

"What do you mean 'the press'?" Elliot snapped. "And how did you know about this anyway?"

Aubrey looked startled and held up a newspaper. "Didn't you see the headline?" She threw the paper, but due to bad aim or wind traction, Olivia caught and opened it instead. Elliot looked over her shoulder and swore. The headline read: "State Alchemist Found Raped- What Will State Do About Alarming Problem?" The whole article had a distinct "is anyone safe?" edge to it.

"They make you guys out to be heroes," Aubrey told them as they scanned the page. "'The Special Victims Unit is piteously understaffed; though the detectives that work it a quite possibly the most dedicated Investigations has yet seen, it is impossible for them to handle the number of cases they are piled with…' it goes on like that."

"Nice," Olivia muttered, flinging the paper down on her desk.

"I guess we should be glad they're making us look good for once," Elliot muttered dryly.

Aubrey made a derisive noise as Olivia asked, "Have you talked to Cragen about interviewing?"

"Of course! He said, 'You've been trained in it; ask Elliot and Olivia.'"

Olivia shrugged. "I- guess there's no harm in it."

"You say that so confidently," Aubrey replied reproachfully. "I'm very good at my work, you know."

"Yes," and you were nearly court-martialed last time you inserted yourself in a case," Elliot reminded her.

She shrugged, picking up Olivia's cup of coffee absently. "Good story." She took a sip and immediately spewed it out. "Oh, gross! Is that instant?"

"Yes," Olivia replied sternly, removing the cup from her fingers and throwing some napkins down. "Shouldn't Huang be watching you?"

"I don't need watching," she replied stiffly, "and anyway, we're having on argument."

"About what?"

"Psychology versus psychiatry."

"_You_ always start those arguments," Elliot informed her.

"Because psychology is better," she replied indifferently. "Now are we going to the hospital or what?"

"Alright," Olivia replied, grabbing her coat. "I'll tell Colonel Mustang to meet us there."

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Roy's first impression of her was a joint one. While she exuded an air of confidence that was almost intimidating, he still wondered what the hell she was doing there. She was roughly five and a half feet tall, well-muscled, and very attractive in an athletic sort of way. She had forsaken a military uniform for tight jeans and a baggy t-shirt, and didn't salute when she was introduced to Roy, just gave a firm handshake and said, "Aubrey Kidwell. I'd be pleased to meet you under different circumstances."

She explained that she was a criminal psychologist and would be conducting the interview, because she wanted to get a better idea of Ed's mental state and that of his attackers. She then stopped a passing nurse with a brief conversation. The nurse checked his clipboard, entered Ed's room, came back out, and talked to Aubrey again. Aubrey then strode purposefully into the hospital room, armed with nothing but a pen and notepad. Roy thought she was quite brave- he couldn't be dragged into that room.

Elliot and Olivia were silent, and he felt that he should direct the conversation for once. "Is she really old enough to be a psychologist?"

"She's twenty-one," Olivia replied. "She's already finished a lot of her graduate studies. Really a genius in her field, which makes up for her lackings in other areas, I suppose." Olivia said this grudgingly, as if graduating rather early and being a psychological genius just couldn't make up for whatever she was lacking.

"And just what does she do?"

"Well, in layman's terms, she's a criminal profiler."

"She's very… enthusiastic about her work," Elliot added. "I've never seen anyone get such a thrill out of understanding rapists and murderers."

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When she entered, he was sitting up, reclined against several pillows, the blanket drawn up to his waist. He looked lopsided in the baggy hospital shirt without his right arm. He at least looked better than the pictures, but still rather terrible; the bruise on his cheek looked even worse cleaned, simply because it was the only wound on his face. Aubrey made a mental note of this.

"Hello, Edward," she greeted him gently, pulling a chair up to his bedside. "I'm Aubrey. I take it the nurse already told you why I'm here?"

He nodded curtly, eyes never leaving the bed. "You're from Investigations. You're supposed to ask me about what happened."

"Right. Can you tell me how you left the hotel room, first?"

"How much do you want to know?"

"As much as you can remember. Anything they said, what you thought."

"I was the latest one up," he started reciting dryly. "I was standing on the balcony, when I heard someone scream. It came from the street below; I ran outside to see what was going on. She screamed again… I can't remember what she said, but she was calling for help. I followed the voice to a side-street and turned down it. There was no one there, but I was pretty sure that's where the screams were coming from. I started down it, and…" he lifted his arm and touched the nape of his neck. "Someone hit me from behind, and I passed out."

He stopped, biting his lip. Aubrey gave him a moment before prompting, "And what happened when you came to?"

"I was on the floor in a dark room," he replied, still matter-of-fact but a little more hesitant. "A bright light was on me, from the side… I think it was a desk lamp. It threw everything else into silhouette. But, the room felt big, drafty. My automail had been removed, and there were people standing around me- three of them. I didn't know what was going on, but it wasn't exactly the first time I'd been knocked out and woke up in a dark room. I asked them what the hell they were dong. I heard a woman laugh, and a man kicked my thigh, and said, 'That was very rude, I ought to teach you better manners.' He dropped to his knees in front of me; I sat up, and he grabbed me by the front of my shirt." A throaty sound began to creep into his voice at this, slowly growing. "He undid my braid, and I tried to hit him. He dropped me and grabbed my fist at the same time; I fell back, but he yanked me back up by my arm and took off my shirt. I gasped, and he smiled and pulled out a knife. He started at the indentation of my collar bone and drew it down the middle of my chest to my bellybutton. I hissed and clenched my teeth; I didn't want to show them weakness. I thought that any minute they'd start talking about how I'd found out something I shouldn't have and needed to be silenced or something silly like that," he said as if it would have been quite commonplace had they done this.

"What do you mean by that?" Aubrey interrupted.

"I research dangerous things," Edward replied shortly; any emotion that had been growing in his voice was abruptly gone.

When he said nothing more, she said, "Please continue."

Ed had an extensive telepathic conversation with the blanket before closing his eyes and answering. "He kissed me," he said in a strangled voice. "He licked around in my mouth and pushed me down, and… I froze. He pulled off my pants and started unbuttoning his, and I just laid there, staring at him. I don't think I understood even then; I remember thinking, 'Why is he doing this?' Not in the moral sense," he corrected in a slightly more level voice, "but as in, to what purpose? I didn't get that he was about to… do what he was about to do. Then he kissed me again, and it suddenly dawned on me that I was naked now, so I must have realized something. I hit him between the legs with what was left of my metal knee. He yelled and slashed across my shoulders with the knife. I screamed, and he- got on top of me, holding down my legs with his and pinning my wrist. He said in this, creepy, growly voice, 'That's a very bad boy. You're making Daddy very angry.' He got up and tried to spread my legs, but I snapped them shut and screamed at him to get the fuck off me. I tried to push him off, but he shoved me back and forced my legs apart, then…" Ed swallowed heavily and continued jerkily. "He wrapped my legs around his waist… and leaned over so he pinned my shoulders down, then he…" Ed's voice broke completely, and he sat breathing in near-sobbing gasps for a moment. Only one tear escaped him. "It hurt so bad," he said in a heartfelt whisper. "I screamed, and- he sort of- groaned, and said, 'It's alright, Daddy forgives you.'" His voice began breaking between his words. "He kept pushing and… kissing me and… I couldn't believe how bad it hurt. I tried not to scream, but…" He fell silent, breathing heavily. Starting again, his voice was under control but heavy with suppressed tears.

"He- finished- and got off me. I was crying. He stepped back into the shadows and one of the others came towards me. A woman. I wondered why she was just letting this happen, but then she sat down beside me, wiped away my tears, and said, 'Hush. You know Mommy and Daddy love you.'" His face contorted into one of rampant disgust. "'Now be a good boy for Mommy, alright?' And she kissed my cheeks where my tears had been, and ran a hand down my chest. She started rubbing…" He emanated more shame that at any other point in the telling. "She rubbed me… between my legs, and…" Ed suddenly looked up and met Aubrey's eyes for the first time. "I didn't mean to," he told her in a pleading voice. "I didn't want to at all. It didn't feel good, but I… it…"

Aubrey realized what he was trying to say. "It's very common for victims to respond sexually while being raped," she told him quickly. "It has nothing to do with wanting it, it's just physiology."

He winced a bit when she said "raped", but seemed less ashamed. He looked back down and continued. "Once she had… gotten me ready, she… got _on_ me. She didn't hurt as bad as the man, but the movement kept hurting me where he'd hurt me, and…" He sighed shakily and whispered. "She kept _saying _things to me. I told her to stop, to get off me, but she just talked like she was trying to comfort me, and-" Ed squeezed his eyes shut in an almost angry fashion- "she acted like she was my mother."

Aubrey was making speed notes, but stopped and looked at Ed when he said nothing more. "What are you writing?" he asked warily.

"Your account. Any conjectures I've made about your attackers. Just things I need to tell the detective."

"Who are the detectives?"

"How about you finish telling me everything, and then you can ask whatever you want?"

Ed breathed deeply and opened his eyes. "Okay. When she finished, the man turned to the person I hadn't seen yet and said, 'Did you want to go next, sweetheart?' She told him, 'You know I like to go last. If you're going to, then do it.' I recognized her voice as the woman who screamed in the street. The man walked away for a while; I tried to scoot back, but the woman who screamed grabbed my ankle and pulled me back. She said, 'Don't be silly, little Edward. We haven't even gotten to the fun part.'

"The man came back, but he was dragging someone else. The one being dragged was begging the man something, but he said, 'Now, now, you don't want your little brother getting hurt, do you?' He threw him on the ground next to me and told him to hurry up. He was in his late teens or early twenties, and- he was crying. The man came up behind me and put the knife to my throat. The boy started crying harder and climbed on top of me, and told me he was sorry, before starting. I think… I think he was trying not to hurt me, and he kept saying he was sorry. He finished quickly and crawled away sobbing; the man kicked him in the ribs and he curled up outside the circle of light."

Ed clenched his teeth and seemed to brace himself before starting the next part with a note of horror. "Then _she_ came up. The woman who screamed. She took off her clothes and straddled me. I screamed her them, 'Dammit, aren't you done with me yet?' or something like that. Then she grabbed my hair and twisted my head back. She told me that we were no where near finished, that she hadn't gotten her turn yet." Ed's voice grew angry, though his face was titled away. "She said it like I was a ride at the fair. She started biting my neck, up my jaw, to may lips. She bit down on my lower lip and shoved her tongue in my mouth, so… I bit back. She jerked back and yelled, and grabbed my pinky and twisted. I screamed like Hell, so I knew it broke then." He fiddled a bit with the finger brace now attached to his pinky and ring fingers. "She said, 'You better not try that again, little bitch.' I wanted to cuss her out, but my throat was sore… from screaming so much. She started doing the same thing the other woman did, but she was more… playing with me. She was saying things, like, 'Why, you're so pretty I'm surprised someone hasn't beaten us to this,' stuff like that. Then, when she started, she… made a lot more noise than the others. She moaned and screamed, and kept telling me things…"

Ed's voice trailed off, face pointed away from Aubrey. "What did she say, Edward?" she asked gently.

"I'd rather not say."

"Edward," she said more firmly, "I need to know what she said to you."

Ed gave an unmistakable sniff and said in a voice clearly laden with tears, "'You're mine, you little bitch.' 'You pathetic little weakling, you can't do anything.' 'No one can save you, you belong to me now.'" He sniffed heavily again. "'No one else wants you, you filthy little whore.'

"She let go of my wrist at one point. When she said… that last one… I slammed my palm into her chin. It must have made her bite her tongue pretty badly, because she shrieked and a little blood trickled out of her mouth. She got this crazy angry look on her face, and punched me across the cheek." He touched the florid bruise and winced. "She went back to hit me again, but someone grabbed her hand and said something to her. My head was sort of spinning, so I couldn't make out what was being said. But…" He gave a soft hiccupping sob. "She just stopped to talk to them, still on me and everything. Just paused, like what she was doing to me wasn't any more important than… eating dinner, or… watching a movie.

"When she started again, she was mad. About whatever they said, I guess. She bit me and hit me, and dug her nails into my skin. But she never hit my face again.

"After she finished, things started getting hazy. I think I lost too much blood. I know they all… raped me," his voice shook over the term, "again, and I know it hurt like Hell all over again. The boy wasn't there; I thought I heard him crying, but when they were all done again and started redressing me, I realized that it was just me crying. When I was redressed, they carried me outside to a car. The man drove for a while- I couldn't say how long, and they dropped me by the telephone booth where I called Colonel Mustang from. The last woman dropped some change on me and said, 'You better get some help soon, we don't want to loose you.' I think I blacked out for a bit, but I eventually crawled into the phone booth and called the Colonel."

"Okay," Aubrey said in an oddly neutral voice. "Did you want to ask me anything now?"

Ed considered for a moment, brushing his cheeks dry as subtly as he could. Finally he asked shakily, "Who know?"

"Come again?"

"Who know… what happened to me?"

The newspaper came to her mind, but "most of the city" seemed a bad answer. He might need honesty, but Aubrey wasn't sure he would be able to cope with that knowledge. So who knew that he cared about? "Colonel Mustang told your brother and Ms. Rockbell." Ed's eyes snapped shut tightly. "And your teacher will arrive in Central by tomorrow morning."

Ed's eyes flew back open. "What? Why?! How does she know?"

"I would assume she wants to see you. Your brother felt she should be alerted."

"I don't want to see her."

The rapidness with which he spilled this sentence startled her. "What do you mean?"

"I don't want to see anyone. Not right now."

"Well, you don't have to see anyone until you're ready, but I would suggest-"

"I don't want to."

"Alright."

Relief swept Ed's face and his shoulders slumped. "So, who's working… my case?"

"Fist Lieutenants Benson and Stabler were assigned to it; Colonel Mustang is working it, also."

"What? But, he's not in Investigations!"

"Yes; I understand he used his powers as a State Alchemist to force his way onto the case."

"Why?"

Aubrey looked at him levelly. "You'd have to ask him, but he looked pissed when I met him."

Something deeply disturbed passed over his face as he fell silent. Aubrey closed the notepad and stood up. "Do you think you could describe your attackers for a sketch artist?" Ed nodded his head. She mad her way to the door and paused, hand on the knob. "I'll come by soon to see how you're doing." Ed made no reply.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

(AN: thank you for trusting me enough to read this far! Okay, there's a perfectly logical reason why Aubrey has to exist- the plot needs her. You see, when this story was first born after a Sunday marathon of SVU, I was planning on this being just a plain FMA fic. Later I decided that if people didn't like me writing a crossover they could bite me, but I'd already developed plot for the imaginary Investigations unit. Only Aubrey was needed for the general plot, so she was the only one I kept.

The other ones are because there are no FMA characters I could use for rape that wasn't balckmail or power abuse. There's so much in FMA non-con fics.

One more thing: I need everyone's opinion. Should I include any other characters in this story? Should Hughes be thrown into the mix? Want to see some random Munch scenes? Please tell me if you'd like anyone else included! Everyone tell me your ideas, so review!)


	4. Chapter 4

(AN: Happy Christmas! Merry Holidays! I'm sorry this took so long; there were some incidents, and I didn't have the notebook I write this in for about two weeks... Unfortunately, I can't promise a faster update next time. I'm getting to some difficult stuff; hopefully the 15th volume of the FMA manga will inspire me. That's a weird thing to hope for, considering what that entails... Anyways, as always, I appreciate all reviews, and would especially appreciate any ideas or advise for this story. Thanks!)

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Elliot had thought they were in for hell when Aubrey stepped out of that hospital room. Now, back at HQ, watching Mustang read over her notes, Elliot knew they were in for ten times as much hell.

"What did you decide, Aubrey?" Olivia asked, obviously noting what Elliot did and trying to avoid the explosion.

Aubrey pulled herself onto a desk and beat her foot against its leg. "It seems to me that Male A and Female A are role-playing in some form. They continuously refer to themselves as 'Mommy' and 'Daddy.' Male B seems to be unwilling, but we can't rule out that that's a more in-depth role-play. Female B doesn't seem to be going along with their game, though. I'd classify her as sadistic so far; and the fact that she was angry at being stopped from doing as she pleased shows her need for control over her victim. Oh, that brings up another point- I think the others wanted his face undamaged."

"If we assume that 'Male B' was unwilling, what do you make of the threat used on him? Do you think they have his little brother, or-"

"Definitely not," Aubrey interrupted Olivia. "I mean, that's always a possibility, but I think Male A was referring to Edward. It would fit with the role-play, and Male A put the knife to Edward's throat after making the threat."

"Which would make 'Male B' another 'son'?" Elliot asked.

Aubrey nodded. "Which makes it more likely that he was truly unwilling.

"Also, they each seem to have a definite MO, as far as I can tell from one incident- it's almost ritualistic. Most probably, this isn't the first time they've done this."

"So we should look for other similar cases," Olivia announced, striding off to look at case files.

"We'll have the sketches soon enough," Elliot commented.

"How soon until we get the DNA?" Roy asked impatiently.

"Still not for a few days."

"Dear God, do you people ever get anything done?!"

"Well, how about you pull some of your precious alchemist from war research and throw them in the crime lab?" Elliot snapped, facing Mustang.

Roy looked away, quieted. Olivia sighed from the filing cabinet. "Colonel, unless I'm very mistaken, you haven't slept in over twenty-four hours."

"I'm not going to just-"

"We have a couch here- you sleep, Elliot and I will go over case files and contact the Crime Scene Unit from where Ed was found, and we'll wake you if we find anything."

Mustang began to protest, was interrupted by a jaw-breaking yawn, and, looking defeated, headed in the direction Aubrey pointed.

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It was quite late that evening when, CSU having reported that nothing had been found but large amounts of Edward's blood and case files with similar MOs and perps that were capable of raping again were exhausted, all three working members sat engaged in various activities signifying absolute lack of options. Aubrey stared at each of the pictures of Ed's injuries in turn, occasionally groaning and massaging her temples; Olivia had been gazing absently at the same file for fifteen minutes, drumming her fingers rhythmically; Elliot drank his coffee periodically while leaning against a wall, getting up at intervals to walk to another object to lean against.

At a firm knock on the door, Elliot rose from the wall, Olivia jumped from her chair, and Aubrey fell from the desk she was perched on. All three lunged for the door and reached it at about the same time; the young man backed away from the door as Elliot opened it and the three crowded in the entrance. "I got the sketches finished," he said, handing over a stack of papers. Aubrey snatched them and spread them out hurriedly as Elliot and Olivia came up behind her.

Four faces stared back at them flatly. Two men with light hair and dark eyes, one around twenty and one middle-aged. A brown-haired woman, in her thirties, who was pretty if a bit simple-looking. A gorgeous young woman with long black ringlets and an arrogant arch to her brows.

"Look," Elliot pointed at the two males.

"Definitely related," Olivia agreed, surveying the facial features.

"Maybe he's his real son," Aubrey pondered.

Olivia started, "He might have-" but stopped as Elliot held up his hand for silence. A distant crashing had sounded from the hall beyond the door, and stomping footsteps now grew steadily louder. Before anyone could make a conjecture as to their purpose, however, the door flew open and hit the wall, revealing a frightening woman in slippers.

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Roy jerked awake at the resounding slam from the adjacent room. The next words traveled clearly even through the heavy door: "WHO DID THIS?"

Roy tried to get up, rolled off the couch, tripped to the door, and managed to open it as "ARE THESE THEM?" roared through the room. He found the source of emanating rage and immediately wished he'd pretended to still be asleep. "Mrs. Curtis?" he asked as firmly as he could manage (which wasn't very at this point).

Izumi ceased waving around a stack of papers and looked at him, eyes narrowed. "Colonel Mustang," she said like an accusation. "Don't you look comfortable."

Roy became acutely aware that his jacket was off, his hair tousled, and one of his shoes undone. He made an attempt to stand up straighter and blink the sleep from his eyes. "I didn't expect you to make it tonight. Have you been to see Edward yet?"

"I went to the hospital," she answered testily. "They told me he was asleep and had had enough visitors form the SVU today."

"I'm sorry you couldn't see him tonight," Roy replied. "If you want, I can find you a hotel, and-"

"Like Hell!" she snapped. "You already know what they look like and haven't caught them yet? This unit is obviously incompetent."

The SVU members took various levels of offense, but Roy grabbed the papers from her hand. "What?" He flipped the pages hurriedly and glared at Olivia. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"We just got these. We were about to before Mrs. Curtis showed up. Now, if you would just let us—"

"I'm not leaving until I rip these bastards apart with my own hands!" she shouted, slamming her palms down on the table. Everyone in the room drew back slightly from the seething woman.

At that moment, a large man came through the door. "I dropped our things off."

"Thanks, honey," she turned to Sig, then faced the military personnel once more. "Now, you're going to tell me everything you know so far, then you're going to _keep_ telling me everything you learn."

Elliot, Olivia, and Roy all objected at once, but Aubrey broke in with, "On one condition."

"Excuse me?" Izumi asked threateningly.

"If we tell you what we know, I need your word that you won't bother Edward."

"WHAT?! Bother him?! I don't know who you think you are, but—"

"Please, ma'am," she said, trying at respect to mollify her. She could tell immediately that it didn't work. "Edward specifically said that he didn't want any visitors. I'm just asking you to not force your way into the hospital until he's ready to see you."

"Of course he doesn't want to see anyone, he was just--!" Izumi broke off suddenly, then continued in a tightly restrained voice. "Due to the circumstances, I hardly think his judgment is at its best."

"I understand, Mrs. Curtis, but—"

"You _don't_ understand. He _needs_ me!"

Something silent passed between them. Eventually Aubrey said quietly, "I promise you'll be able to see him soon. Just not now."

Izumi considered something seemingly far more complex than those words, then nodded. "For now. If you tell me everything."

"Mrs. Curtis, surely you understand that we can't tell civilians case information anytime someone they love is hurt," Elliot stated calmly as Olivia gave Aubrey a look that eloquently said _What the hell are you doing?_

Izumi returned to shouting. "I understand that my apprentice is lying in a hospital bed because some sick bastards got it into their heads that he'd make a good plaything!"

This inspired an uncomfortable silence, until Mustang announced, "I'll allow it."

"Colonel Mustang, this isn't your decision! We could ask the Captain, but I'm sure he wouldn't agree."

"Lieutenant Benson, I outrank anyone you could call on to oppose me. I am permitting Mrs. Curtis, as a civilian, to have access to this case."

Elliot and Olivia were clearly unhappy with Mustang's impromptu display of power; Izumi eyed Mustang with joint disgust and respect. "Very well, Mustang; why don't you enlighten me?"

Izumi's face was tight by the time she had heard the current rendition of the crime. Turning to Aubrey, she asked almost diffidently (for her), "You're the one who talked to him. How was he?"

She seemed to take this question to heart. Thinking for a moment, she replied, "He was ashamed. Afraid and distrusting, too, and a little bit angry, and very confused, but mostly ashamed. He seems like the type that will leave the hospital pretending that nothing happened."

Izumi almost smiled, though her face was bitter. "He is exactly like that. But you say it like it's a bad thing. Shouldn't he put this behind him?"

"Something _did_ happen to him. He _won't_ be the same as he was before."

Izumi's shoulders twitched unintentionally. Pushing herself away from the desk, she stood up straight and surveyed the room. "I'll be coming back tomorrow morning. I expect there to be a plan for proceeding when I get back. Come on, honey," she added, gesturing to Sig, who had faded into the wall as much as his large form would permit.

"Where will you be?" Mustang asked.

Izumi eyed him levelly. "I'm staying with Al."

Mustang understood the implications, and murmured, "Good luck," as she disappeared through the door.

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"Ms. Izumi!" Winry exclaimed as the Curtis couple entered the hotel room. "What did they say? Is Ed alright?"

"I couldn't see him, but he's fine," Izumi told Winry and Alphonse as Sig shut the door. "And I paid a visit to Mustang; he's agreed to keep me informed."

Alphonse nearly asked her who she had to bloody up to manage that, but found that he really didn't much care. He cared about very little, in fact—there was a solid wall in his mind when he tried to think more that a few hours ahead. He though he should see Ed. Ed would need him, to get better, to… but there he drew a blank. Doubtlessly he'd need to recover, so they could… empty space once more. He wished he could get real sleep, instead of the trance-like state he fell into at night in this armored body. He wondered if Winry was having better luck with her mental processes.

Winry, however, had a different problem: she couldn't get her mind off the future. Being of the female persuasion, she happened to know more about rape than did Al—that is, what she'd learned from harlequin novels and whispered rumors. Therefore, her waking fears involved an Edward terrified of human touch, distrustful of those he'd once loved. It horrified her to make the connection from those frenzied thoughts of the future to the boy who had grown up with her, made her dolls with alchemy, occasionally allowed himself to be dressed up by her and Al, and endured her wrench-filled wrath on several instances.

"I set up your things in your room," Winry told Izumi.

"You didn't have to do that," Izumi replied absently.

"No, I was happy to. It gave me something to do."

Izumi's eyes snapped up abruptly at this. She hesitated for a moment, then told them, "You should know that we won't be able to see Ed for a while yet."

Winry paled rapidly. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Nothing happened," Izumi assured her. "Edward just—requested—that he not have any visitors for now."

"But we have to see him!" Winry objected desperately. "We have to tell him--!" She stopped mid-sentence, looking confused.

Izumi put one hand on her shoulder and one on Al's armor. She wished it was more than an empty gesture for the bodiless boy. "We'll see him soon, I promise. He just needs some time alone now." She was rather satisfied with how convincing she sounded, considering she didn't really believe that last part.

"Ms. Izumi…" Winry said in a small voice. "Do you think Ed will be alright?"

Izumi jerked her head back in surprise, then forced a strained smile. "Let's not borrow trouble, okay?"

Winry's eyes darkened as she nodded. Izumi dropped her hands. "Well, I have an appointment with the SVU tomorrow, so we should all try to get some sleep. Just… try not to bother yourselves with it too much, okay?"

Winry and Al shared glances and said nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

Roy nodded to Elliot and Olivia as he entered

(AN: 'Tis an update! does update dance Not really, though, you understand. Figuratively. Like how I loved that D.Gray-Man manga in the bookstore. Emotionally, not physically.

By the way, you people seriously need to review. I got somewhere around no reviews for the last chapter, even though at least five knew faves and alerts. I understand if you're just happening upon this and don't come back, but if you are continuously reading this, I'd like to know, even if it's just a "Hey, glad for the update, you're a sicko, update soon!" So, if this story means anything to you, please review!

Oh, and I'm on spring break right now, so I'll try to work faster. I'm also done with my research paper, which impeded this story a lot actually, it was on female rapists. Irony! I'm also getting to some good stuff, so I hope muse will come faster.)

(Disclaimer: I own my characters and plot and none of Arakawa-sensei's or Dick Wolf's)

--

Roy nodded to Elliot and Olivia as he entered. It seemed that everyone had arrived early, not wanting to be the victim of Mrs. Curtis's rage, which Roy had so unwittingly released upon them. Two new faces were also present, whom Elliot quickly pointed out. "Colonel Mustang, these are Lieutenants Munch and Tutuola. They'll be helping us from here on out."

"I didn't know you could spare this many people."

"Actually, it was demanded that we move as many people as reasonably possible to this case," Munch replied. "If we need them, practically all of the SVU is available for this case."

Roy's surprised gaze swiveled to Elliot as he explained: "We got a call form someone higher up in the Investigations food chain. From what he said, I got the impression you know him; a Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, I believe?"

The blood had drained from Roy's face before Elliot had even said the name. "Oh, dammit… he was mad?"

"He _did_ mutter something about never taking family vacations again."

Roy inhaled deeply, then let it out in a rush. "He's coming back, I suppose."

"He said he'll stop by here when he gets in."

Nodding, then shaking his head, he asked, "So what are we planning on doing now? I'd like to at least try to avoid being screamed at by Mrs. Curtis."

Elliot graced him with a cold look that said 'You brought this on yourself.' "We'll be questioning people on the streets where Edward was found and where he was taken from to see if they saw anything. You and Mrs. Curtis can get the sketches and press statement to the newspaper." He said this like an adult finding a menial task to keep a child out of trouble, and Roy was sure that was exactly how it was meant.

He was about to reply with something sharp and pithy when Mrs. Curtis entered, filling the room with an air of wary tension, and it dawned on the Colonel that _that_ was the reason he was being separated form the others. Well, he couldn't blame the man for that; it _was_ his own fault she was here. "Very well," Roy answered Elliot, meeting Izumi's gaze form across the room.

--

"Thank you, Colonel," the man at Public Relations said, flipping through the sketches curiously. "We'll get these out as soon as possible. I'm sure everyone in Central will have their eyes peeled for them; the whole city is just outraged by what's happened, myself included. I mean, the Fullmetal kid! Please tell him we're all hoping for him."

Roy nodded brusquely and turned toward the door where Izumi stood. He quickly exited the building, not caring whether she followed or not. Steady footsteps echoed his own as he forced himself down the sidewalk, then abruptly rushed forward before a hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around.

His anger found a suitable outlet as he gazed on Izumi's annoyed face. "'We're all hoping for him'?" Roy growled heatedly. "What is that supposed to mean? 'Oh, it's too bad about you being tortured and brutalized, I _do_ hope the mental scars aren't too deep!'" Izumi opened her mouth, but he over-road her. "Oh, don't start on me! If yo…" Roy hesitated at her raised eyebrow and sardonic smirk.

"I was going to say that you'd passed the car," Izumi said, gesturing back the way they'd come.

"Oh," he mumbled, hurrying back to it to hide his embarrassment.

Izumi swung herself into the car on the opposite side as Roy started it and drove away, staring straight ahead. "They seem concerned for him," Izumi observed.

Roy could feel Izumi's eyes on him, but he wasn't sure what she was asking. "He's popular here. They like him."

"But he has enemies, also," she stated casually.

"Of course," Roy replied. "People he's faced on his missions, military higher-ups who don't like being shown up by a kid." He caught at what she was getting at. "But I can't imagine any of them doing _this_. And Ed didn't recognize the people who…"

Izumi nodded thoughtfully, disregarding Roy's unfinished sentence. "But surely he hasn't seen everyone who's got a grudge against him, especially in the military. He could be completely oblivious that something he did spoiled someone's plans."

Roy had been listening so intently to her monologue that he had to skid to a sharp halt when they approached a stop sign. He turned to Izumi angrily. "The military might not be perfect, and sure, they've done a lot of terrible things, but they wouldn't rape a child for revenge!"

Izumi's calm and Roy's angry gazes locked for several seconds, until the cars behind them began to honk and Roy pulled forward. They sat in awkward silence until Izumi said quietly, "I was just considering possibilities; after all, we both know that whoever did this had to have picked him specifically. _You_ were at the front; surely you understand."

Roy clenched his teeth before responding. "I was in Ishbal," he replied tightly. "Only a necrophiliac could have done that in Ishbal."

Izumi made a sharp noise that must have been a laugh. "Well, we'll know soon enough. If this is someone in the military, they'll be recognized by the pictures. You know where Ed was found, right?"

It took Roy a second to find her new train of thought when he'd been about to respond to the old one. "Yes, of course. I'm the one who found him."

"Good. Go there."

"What?" he asked confusedly, but turning obediently.

"We finished what they assigned us," she replied. "Now we're going to do some real investigating."

--

Finn and Munch saw Roy and Izumi get out of the car on the other side of the street. "I don't suppose you're bringing us lunch?" Munch called to them. They both scowled in unison as they made their way towards the taped-off area Finn and Munch stood by.

Izumi narrowed her eyes at the dark blood stains dotting the pavement, but quickly recovered. "Well?" she demanded of the two detectives. "What have you found out?"

Finn scowled right back at her, but Munch smiled. Pointing, he announced, "We know that the car came from that direction, but nothing else. We're just about to go question anyone who might have seen something. This street separates part of the business district from some older apartment buildings; all the businesses," Munch gestured behind him, "were closed when they drove through, but the tenants over there," he pointed across the street, "might have seen something, so we'll ask them some questions."

--

Roy Mustang had always harbored secret thoughts about the police born from childhood comic books and working over them for so long. In an uncorrupt country, it seemed their entire existence to stand in the distance as the heroes or other such big boys took care of the emergency, then after said hero left, blocked off the scene and told everyone to "move along." In his country, it seemed their purpose to pull fake laws out of their asses and get the perks of soldiers without the work. After doing door-to-door for twenty minutes, however, Roy swore to never underestimate their importance again.

The door Finn had just knocked on opened cautiously, the chain spread across the four-inch crack. "What do you want?" a gravely voice asked.

"We're investigating a crime," Munch told him, flashing his badge. "A kid was dumped across the street—did you see anything?"

"The kid dead or alive?" the grubby man asked warily.

"Alive," Munch replied slowly.

"Then I didn't see anything." With this, the door slammed heavily in their faces.

Finn banged fiercely on it several times. "I told you-" the man hissed through barely a crack.

A sharp clap, a bright flash: the door chain hung as a useless tube of brass. One well-aimed kick to the door: it flew back with a slam. Izumi held the man by his shirt pinned against the wall. "What did you see?" she demanded with a shake.

"Hey, chill out!" Finn demanded, both he and Munch trying to pull her off. She ignored them, and Roy made no move to assist them.

The man struggled in vain before choking, "I saw a car! Put me down!"

Izumi dropped him abruptly and shrugged off the hands that had failed to restrain her anyway. "Well?"

"Black," the man replied as he pulled himself up. "Luxury. New expensive piece of shit. I saw them pull over, heard people talking. They dumped someone, then drove off."

"Why didn't you do anything?" Izumi demanded.

"I thought he was dead!" he exclaimed defensively. "Nothing you can do for 'em if their dead; anyway, they could of been watching and come back for him if I did anything."

"How many people did you see in the car?" Finn questioned him.

"A woman carried him out, and the driver stayed in the car. I think that was it."

--

Ed felt a stabbing pain in his leg. He jerked it back—or tried to. It didn't move. Spores of pain sprouted all over his body, spreading and spawning new agony. He tried to get away, but he didn't move; he tried to scream, but his jaw refused to open; he tried to open his eyes, and was never sure if he managed that, but all stayed black regardless.

Panic was rising in him rapidly, terror spiked with claustrophobia, when fine, cold fingers grabbed his arms tightly; and he _knew_ what they wanted, and he _knew_ what they would do, and now he was moving, fighting, willing them away, willing himself freedom form the fear and despair and the terrible, terrible knowledge…

And suddenly he heard himself screaming quite determinedly, and a warm voice telling him, "It's okay, son, you're safe." His eyes opened, showing him that he was sitting in his hospital bed in a pile of tangled, knotted sheets, and the weekend doctor was holding his left arm and his shoulder, the farthest extension on his right. His hands were doctor's hands, deft and warm and gentle. Ed's scream broke abruptly.

However, it had already drawn several nurses into the room in addition to the doctor. He wanted them gone; but they had to fix his bed, and check his bandages, and ask inane questions like "Are you alright?" and the whole time he wanted to scream again because they were all there, crowded around him, and convulsive shudders wracked his body, no matter how much he tried to stop them.

The doctor was the last to leave, pausing by his bed. He laid a hand on Ed's shoulder; Ed only managed not to flinch by watching it intently and telling himself it would be there several seconds before it was. "You _are_ safe now," he told him gently. "I know you don't want to hear this, but it could be a good idea to let a friend or two visit soon."

Ed didn't reply, and the door clicked closed quietly, leaving him alone in the room. It was only then that he pulled his good leg to his chest with his good arm, dropped his head, and cried.

--

"Get anything?" Munch asked as Elliot and Olivia walked back into headquarters.

"Only one person saw anything," Olivia replied a bit tiredly. "She heard a scream and looked out her window, but only saw a car driving off. It's a good street, so she didn't think anything of it."

"We got a vague description of the car," he told her, "but the guy didn't get a good enough look to recognize any of the sketches. He did say there was only a man and woman, though."

"Perfect," Elliot sighed.

Roy waited, but neither Finn nor Munch mentioned Izumi's… persuasive actions. Maybe her menacing presence was to blame.

Dr. Warner entered the room and stopped. "No luck?"

"Very little, as of yet," Elliot replied. "Are you bringing us any?"

She shrugged. "See for yourself. The lab work is done."

--

"We don't have any matches in the system," Warner told them, "but there is one matter of interest—one of the men is the other's father."

"Well, that's nice and disgusting," Aubrey commented dryly, arriving at just the right time to catch this information. Olivia moved over to make room for her. "That probably means-"

"Elliot, Olivia, get out here," Cragen interrupted. Everyone jumped and turned to him. "A boy just came in—he claims he was attacked last night by the two women Ed described."

--

(AN: I wanted to take a minute to explain my thoughts on the DNA testing. Obviously, the world of FMA does not have computers or any of the methods we use to identify DNA, so, in order to make it closer to SVU, I invented a form of alchemy dealing in human genetics. It made sense, to me at least, that if they could combine DNA to form chimeras, there's no reason they couldn't use it to identify people. So yes, Warner is an alchemist. Maybe she served in the military, since she was in the Air Force in SVU. Well, I'll stop ranting on my theories. Please review!)


	6. Chapter 6

(AN: Sorry this isn't longer. I was going to have another scene, but I've been so distracted lately that it would take forever to write. One, I've been having trouble with my boyfriend, which had emotionally drained me and temporarily halted my writing abilities. Two, while we were studying Julius Caesar in English, the teacher made some comment about the conspirators 'joining in the fun activity' (in reference to killing Caesar). At the end of class, one of my friends comes over and tells me, 'That reminded me of your non-con fic!' You can imagine how deeply this disturbed me.

Anyway, I'm going to try to write a lot when school gets out; I'd like to finish this before next school year, which means I'll have to pick up the pace. Please review!)

--

"What were you thinking? We almost got caught!" The voice was female, nervous and simpering.

"Oh, calm yourself." Though also feminine, the vocal similarities ended there: it was rich and persuasive, the sort of voice that armies would fall to, and it demanded obedience. "Do you really think one more will change our position?"

"But they're already all over us! _Everyone_ is looking for us, after what we did to Edward!"

Her voice was cut off by soft, demanding lips; she relaxed into their temptation. Several minutes later she leaned against the wall, eyelids fluttering as she tried to get her balance back.

"Don't you worry about the Fullmetal boy," those lips whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine as the speaker brushed the hair away from her face. "He's _mine_."

--

He huddled in his chair, brown ringlets hanging over dark eyes and darker circles around them. His father watched the interrogation intently through the one-way window, his hands shaking.

"He told me he'd been in a fight at school," he told Olivia slowly. "He came home with a black eye, a busted lip, scratches all over his arms, and torn clothes; and he said it was a fight at school. And I believed him."

"There was no reason for you not to," Olivia comforted him.

He shook his head as if in a daze. "Then this evening he sees the newspaper and just freezes, won't look at me in the eye, winds up crying about how…" the father turned toward Olivia, looking like a man possessed, "_they wanted to do that to him…_"

Olivia looked away diplomatically as he surreptitiously wiped a tear off his cheek.

"I noticed one of them nudge the other before looking at me," the boy was telling Elliot. "I didn't think anything of it then. It was getting late, so I started to take a shortcut home—it's just a short little alley with a fence in the middle that you have to jump. I climb on top of a dumpster to get over it, when someone grabs by leg and pulls me down. I fall and someone catches me, grabbing me from behind so they have my arms, and drags me back against the fence. The other one is in front of me, and just starts tearing off my clothes, no warning or anything. I try to fight them off, but the one behind me just digs her fingers into my arms and pulls them back more. The one in front punches me in the eye; my head snaps to one side, and she whispers in my ear, 'Don't scream and we'll try to be gentle.'" A shudder ran through him briefly. "I didn't scream. I didn't fight. She shoved her tongue down my throat and kept tearing at my clothes, and all I could do was stand there thinking that it was going to happen, no matter how much I fought… and then, I hear running footsteps, and someone shouts, 'Hey! What do you think you're doing to that boy?' They throw me to the ground and run, and the person on the other side of the fence curses and tells me to wait there while he gets help. I sit there, frozen for a minute, and then without really knowing what I'm doing I jump up, get over the fence, and run for home." He took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. "I wasn't going to tell anyone, but when I saw the paper, what they did to Edward Elric, I knew I couldn't let them get away with it if there was anything I could do to stop them."

Elliot smiled encouragingly. "You did the right thing, Randy. Don't worry, we'll catch them."

"No, you don't understand," Randy said hurriedly. "They were coming out of a house when I first saw them, and I remember what house it was."

--

_Thwack thwack thwack_. "Police! Open up!" Silence. _Thwack thwack thwack_. Soft, running footsteps. The door was kicked open and slammed against the back wall as Elliot, Olivia, Finn, Munch, Roy, and Izumi filed in, the four policemen's guns raised, Roy with gloves on and fingers at the ready, and Izumi just looking ready to kick some ass. Roy and Izumi split up as the detectives moved to secure the area.

Izumi made her way up the stairs purposefully, disregarding stealth or caution. As she reached the landing, a furtive noise from behind a cracked door caught her attention. Faster than most would have been able to consider the following actions, she slammed open the door, hurled herself through the room, and pinned the room's inhabitant on the ground. He had been attempting to open the window quietly, though what he had been expecting to do from the second story she wasn't sure. He hadn't tried to fight or run away, and now lay shaking softly in fear.

The detectives had come running at the racket she made, going immediately to help her with the boy. He was quite unremarkable—a young man in his late teen or early twenties with sandy hair, dark eyes, and a lanky frame—but his face was graven in Izumi's mind. He was the boy Ed had described.

"Where are the others?" she demanded of him. His eyes widened as he flattened himself even further against the floor. She went back to hit him, but Finn and Munch quickly pulled her back.

"You know," Munch whispered to her, "violence isn't _always_ the best solution."

Izumi scowled, but had to admit to herself that the boy looked more ready to talk with Olivia speaking gently to him.

What happened next was, when they considered it later, hard to understand. Izumi and the SVU stood in an outer room that bordered on a fairly well-traveled Central street. Roy stood over a story below them, separated by several thick walls and floors. Nevertheless, everyone in that room clearly heard those two almost-whispered words. Perhaps, as prairie dogs and other animals give warning cries when in danger, there is a certain pitch in the human voice, meant for pre-language communication, that denotes such ultimate horror that people for miles around can feel it; and perhaps the people on that street, or all over Central, felt a shadow of dread from that primordial knowledge of the damage those words signified.

"My god."

Leaving the boy with Olivia, the rest dashed down the stairs and followed in the direction Roy had gone. A slightly ajar door led to a garage which held… a new, black luxury car. A cursory glance revealed an open door with stairs leading down; they half-ran, half-tripped down them, stopping short as they saw Roy standing in the middle of the room.

If they were in a harlequin novel, there would be chains covering the walls, or at least a bed with straps. There would be blood stains on the floor, and it would be referred to as "the Playground," or "Neverland," or at the very least "Briarwood." This room had none of that, and if it had a name no one ever learned. There were shelves and a few boxes, obviously just what it was supposed to be: storage for tools, out-of-season clothes, old things people can't bear to give away. The object that struck such horror in Roy would have seemed perfectly innocent to a person unfamiliar with the circumstances. It was a list of names, both masculine and feminine, about fifteen long; the last name on the list, in neat, steady handwriting, was "Edward N. Elric."

--

Izumi went with Olivia as they took the boy back to headquarters. She stood by the one-way mirror, watching the proceedings of the interrogation. Olivia had managed to get roughly two words out of the boy ("no" and "can't"), who for the most part trembled and kept his eyes locked on the tabletop.

Aubrey had joined Izumi soon after the boy arrived. She watched him interact with Olivia almost hungrily; finally Izumi broke the silence.

"Why are you here?"

She jumped in a nearly guilty fashion. "I'm going to talk to him if Olivia can't get him to say anything, and I need to see how he acts first. The captain wanted Huang, thinks he can't trust me with suspects, but he's still tied up."

"I realized that already," Izumi replied. "Why are you _here_, in the SVU? This is hardly a dream job, and you're pretty fresh out of college."

Aubrey smiled dreamily. "I've always wanted to be a psychologist. It's all I've ever cared about." She shrugged. "Some kids want to grow up and be a vet or a firefighter; I wanted to understand what was wrong with everyone."

"But the SVU? Investigations? When people want to be psychologists, they want to council families or comfort the insane, not learn the rational of serial rapists."

Aubrey avoided her gaze. "I was going into investigative psychology when I started college—you know, labs and studies and stuff?—but… that all changed."

The door opened and Olivia stepped out. "He's all yours." Aubrey brushed passed her into the room.

--

"We can't find any traces of blood, but there is quite a bit of bleach residue. Someone washed these floors in a hurry."

"All right, thanks," Munch dismissed the forensics worker.

"Nothing in the car, either," Finn told the general surroundings. "The whole back seat is missing."

"These bastards are covering their bases," Elliot muttered.

"Not well enough, apparently," said a voice rarely so cold or fierce.

Roy gasped sharply as the SVU briefly saluted. "Lt. Colonel Hughes."

Hughes nodded in greeting before gesturing Roy towards him. Swallowing his trepidation, Roy followed his friend into a fairly secluded room away form the investigators. Hughes was silent, seemingly waiting for Roy to begin. Roy didn't take the bait.

"What's going on?" Hughes finally asked.

"Awfully ambiguous question," Roy murmured evasively.

A vise-like grip enclosed hi shoulder as Hughes slammed him against the wall. "I want to know why I had to learn from a fucking _newspaper_ that Ed was gang raped!"

Roy forced himself to not flinch and instead shrugged off his hand, turning away. "Seems like as good a way as any to find out."

Hughes growled in frustration. "Gracia got the paper that morning. I found out by running in after I heard glass breaking where she dropped a coffee mug. Do you know what it's like to wake up to that? Elicia kept asking why mommy was crying, and I didn't know what to tell her. I didn't want to believe it was true, but I didn't want to get my hoped up by assuming it was false either."

Roy couldn't quite meet Hughes's eyes. "Alright, I'm sorry you found out like that."

"Why didn't _you_ tell me?" Hughes demanded. "Why didn't you call me as soon as you found out?"

"There are plenty of things you haven't told me about right away. Don't go guilt-tripping me now because—"

"Dammit, Roy, this isn't about the philosopher's stone or alchemical conspiracies, this is about _Ed_; _our_ Ed!"

"I _know_ what this is about!" Roy shouted, spinning to face him. "I know much better than you do! _I_ saw him after it happened, _I_ heard him crying! You've _no idea_ what this is about!"

Breathing heavily, Roy drew his hand across his mouth, shocked at his own outburst. He was further shocked by the brief, fierce hug Hughes gave him before gripping his shoulders and forcing him to face him. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you'd…" Hughes sighed and released him. "I've got my men looking for this house's records. They'll find the owner."

"Thanks, Maes. And don't worry: I'll make these bastards pay, even if no one else will."


	7. Chapter 7

"Hello," Aubrey greeted him, sitting casually

(AN: I would like to give oodles of thanks to Taranova Xonson for betaing this chapter and making it infinitely better than it otherwise would have been.)

--

"Hello," Aubrey greeted the boy as she entered the interviewing room before sitting casually across from him. "I heard you talked with Olivia." He stole a glance at her, and just as suddenly looked down. "My name's Aubrey. Why don't you tell me yours?" He shook his head rapidly. "Is there anything I can call you, then?"

He hesitated for quite a while, then whispered, "Olli."

"Alright, Olli. We have to spend some time together now, so let's get to know each other. Hm… we can start at the basics. I'm nineteen years old. How old are you?"

Olli looked at her with some disbelief, but nonetheless responded. "Seventeen."

"We're not too far apart, then. Have you graduated yet?"

"I stopped going to school after eighth grade. I never made very good grades, so Daddy said I might as well quit while I was ahead, if I wasn't going to make it to college."

"Oh, are you training for a craft then?" Aubrey asked him curiously, perfectly masking any pity or anger she might have been feeling.

Olli hesitated, shamefaced. "No. Daddy… Daddy doesn't like for me to leave the house very often."

"You live with your father? In the house where we found you?" Aubrey's voice had taken on an intent edge.

Olli tensed abruptly as if realizing that he had said something he shouldn't have. He nodded curtly, biting his lip.

Aubrey frowned at him. "Olli, you know your father is doing horrible things."

"No," Olli replied, shivering slightly. "He hasn't done anything wrong."

"We need your help. I know you don't want anyone else to be hurt."

"Daddy is always right."

"He hurt you first, didn't he?" Aubrey said quietly. Olli forcefully shook his head. "But when you got older, he started hurting other kids, too. Maybe he made you watch. Eventually, he made _you_ hurt them, as well."

"I won't do anything wrong as long as it's what Daddy tells me," he whispered hoarsely.

"But you knew it was wrong, no matter what he told you. Olli, I know you never wanted to hurt anyone," Aubrey told him with intensity. "We can protect you from him now, but we need _your_ help to save all of the innocents he will hurt if he isn't stopped."

Olli's shoulders shook violently as he sobbed into his hands, hugging his legs toward his body on the metal chair. "I loved to hear about Ed," he told her mutedly. "I kept every newspaper article that mentioned him; I asked the neighbors for any rumors they might have heard. When…when Daddy would do things to me, and make _me_ do things, I would pretend I was somewhere else… with Ed, on an adventure." He leaned on the table, burying his head in his arms. "But then he was forced into my life instead, and there was no where to run."

"Olli…" Aubrey whispered, leaning across the table and resting a hand on his arm. "Olli, none of this is your fault."

"I hurt him!" he shrieked heavily, raising his eyes to hers. "How could that not be my fault?"

She sighed, rubbing his arm rhythmically. "I know that you feel guilty, but there was nothing you could have done without putting the two of you in danger," she told him, finality in her voice. She held his gaze firmly, forcing his full attention on herself. "My little brother… four years ago, my little brother was hurt by someone, too. I know how it feels, to think that you should have done something to protect them; but you can do something _now_."

--

Something was wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was surrounded by a blindingly blank whiteness, and… where was Al? They had just been together, but now… Then, without understanding how, he knew that Al was _gone_, and he was truly alone in this blankness that extended unbound.

"No," he whispered fearfully, desperately denying what he knew to be true. "It can't be…" He slowly stepped backward. "This isn't…"

"Don't say this isn't what you wanted," a cold, playful voice said behind him. "You knew perfectly well what you were getting into."

Ed made to turn around, but instantly dozens of black, shadowy hands had grasped him and began to pull him steadily back.

"No!" Ed cried, fighting against them but only making their grip tighter. "Give him back! Stop!" But he was being towed inexorably closer to that voice, and he couldn't keep himself from shaking. "No… please, stop…"

"You want to save him, don't you?" the voice asked. Two fine, fair hands slid onto his neck and forced his head upward, cold grey eyes locking onto his own tear-filled ones. A smile of pure, depraved delight spread across the gray-eyed face. "You know what the toll is."

It was with different ears that Ed heard his own cries of, "No! Al! ALPHONSE!" He jolted upright, realizing instantly that he was awake and, until just then, had been asleep. It was quite fortunate that this knowledge came so quickly; the feelings of loss were still so strong, evidenced by the bile in his throat and the tears in his eyes, that he felt he surely would have died from the despair had he believed it for a moment longer.

A harried-looking nurse rushed into the room, eyes darting around before resting on him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Ed replied shakily, drawing his blanket up around his shoulders.

"I heard you scream."

"It's nothing."

The nurse sighed irritably.

"I'm sorry," Ed apologized. "It…it was just a nightmare."

The nurse's face softened. "Ah. Do you need anything, while I'm here?"

"No, I…" Ed paused, throat oddly constricted. The visions of his dream still clutched determinedly at his consciousness, as did the fear that made him want to curl up under his bed and wait for someone to tell him that the monsters were gone and could never come back.

"I need Al."

--

"I'll give you a ride," Roy offered as he and Izumi exited the building, knowing that no cabs would be running at this time of night.

Olli had said that his father had left shortly after the rape and planned to return in a few days. The boy was too upset to say much more, and afterwards Aubrey guiltily admitted that she had pushed him harder than was strictly safe considering his level of trauma. The Investigators had agreed to return to questioning Olli tomorrow when he could tell them more.

Izumi glanced at Roy appraisingly. "Thank you." They began driving in relatively comfortable silence, Roy not wanting to intrude upon Izumi's apparently deep reverie. It was she, however, who broke the silence.

"This is hard on you."

Roy thought for a moment before speaking. "Of course it is. This isn't exactly an every day occurrence. And… it's hard to keep the images out, when I think about… what he went through, and what he must be going through."

"You know, he always complained about you—about how you insulted and made fun of him, and made him do all of your dirty work. But… you care about him a great deal, don't you?"

"Yeah," Roy replied in an uneven voice.

"I think you get angrier than me sometimes, and probably more revolted. What is it to you? Camaraderie for your subordinates?"

Roy shook his head cautiously. "That's a small part, I suppose, and not the prevailing one in this circumstance. It's just that…" he sighed and continued in a slightly choked voice. "He's just a kid. _No one_ should have to go through what happened to him, and those brothers had already been through so much already. It just seems like fate has no mercy for either of them."

"No," Izumi interjected, "fate had nothing to do with this. The transmutation was the fault of Ed's naiveté; _this_ was the workings of simple human evil."

Roy pulled slowly up to the curb to let Izumi out. "I'm scared for him, all the same," he told her softly.

"He's strong," she replied with force.

"I know that. But there's still a limit to how much anyone can take before breaking."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she half-whispered as she fled from the car. Roy watched her make her way to the doors. Then he began driving away, carefully pretending that he didn't see her leaning against the wall, shoulders shaking violently as she sobbed.

--

Izumi continued into the lobby after being sure any sign of weakness was wiped cleanly from her face. The clerk, busy at the phone, looked up as she entered. "Ah, Mrs. Curtis!" he exclaimed. "There's a call from the hospital for Alphonse Elric. They said it wasn't an emergency, so I tried to convince them to try again in the morning, but—hey!" Izumi had yanked the phone from his grasp and put it to her ear.

"Hello? What's going on?" she demanded.

"Edward Elric wants to see his brother," a voice weighed with growing impatience told her. "I understand that it's late, but we think it's rather important…"

"We'll be right over," Izumi snapped before slamming down the phone and darting up the stairs, leaving the clerk gaping after her.

--

When Al entered the hospital room, Ed didn't look up from where he was determinedly fraying the edge of his blanket. Al felt an emotional pang, the only sort of pain he could feel, at how helpless his brother looked: he was missing half his limbs, he'd lost a fair amount of weight, and the florid bruise on his cheek had taken on a yellowish tinge. He also noticed a few stray traces of tears that Ed had failed to rub away.

For the past three days, Al had thought of nothing but Ed, of how his brother was likely to react and what he could possibly do to make it better. Now, stepping closer to the truth and reality of what had been done, he could think of nothing to say. "H-hey."

"Hey," Ed replied, staring raptly at his hand as it worked steadily. "Grab a chair if you want."

There was one resting against the wall, and Al pulled it next to Ed's bedside. An extended silence ensued until both boys attempted to break it at once.

"So, how've-"

"How come-"

"Oh, my bad, go ahead-"

"Sorry, you were saying?"

They stopped, eyes meeting for the first time. Ed almost grinned (not quite, but almost) before looking back down at the cover. "Seriously, what is it?"

"No, it's nothing, you go ahead."

"Erm…" Ed hesitated, forcing his fingers to halt in their frenzied motions. "I was just going to ask how everyone's been."

"Uh…" Al knew 'fine' wasn't an answer that would suffice; and besides, he couldn't bring himself to tell such a blatant lie. "Well, Winry's been keeping herself busy: she talked to a local automail engineer and is doing some work in their shop."

Ed snorted. "Figures."

"She called Granny. She said she wants you to come back to Resembool and stay for a bit when you get out of the hospital."

Ed made no reply.

"And Teacher came in yesterday…" Al glanced at the wall clock and saw that the hand was approaching one in the morning. "Well, the day-before-yesterday, now. She's working with Investigations along with the Colonel."

Ed raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Who'd she have to bloody up to manage that?"

Al gave a slight breath of laughter. "I thought the same thing. But I never asked, of course."

A faint glimmer of light flashed briefly in Ed's eyes, sending a surge of hope through Al. "You don't think it was the Colonel, do you?" Ed whispered in a good imitation of his devious voice.

Al didn't, but he wasn't about to even drizzle on whatever parade Ed could muster. "Well, we haven't seen him since he told us about…what happened to you."

Ed immediately sobered. "Mustang told you then, huh?"

Al's voice lowered. "Well, yeah. He… he was the first to find out."

"Of course," Ed whispered. He seemed to be psyching himself up for something; finally he closed his eyes and asked, "How did he… when they… how did everyone react?"

Al gave it the consideration it deserved. "Um… Roy seemed pretty dazed when I saw him. Winry… Winry cried a lot." Ed visibly flinched. "Teacher's been unusually nice to us, but really angry at everyone else—kind of the reverse of usual, I guess."

Ed made no reply for several minutes; when he finally spoke, he was so quiet that Al thought he'd imagined it. "And you?"

"Wh-what?"

Ed raised his voice minimally. "How… how did you react, Al?"

"I… I was really… really shocked. I mean, it's not something you ever think about happening… it still seems… a little unreal."

"Yah," Ed whispered in agreement. "It's unreal."

Al's armored hand reached for his brother tentatively —he'd never felt so guilty for not having a body. Ed, though, didn't seem to mind in the least—his own flesh-and-blood hand shot out compulsively, twining their fingers and squeezing slightly harder than was necessary. Suddenly, Al felt more at peace than he could ever remember being in the past few days. They sat in comforting silence for so long that Ed drifted into a dreamless sleep, his features peaceful but his grip barely relaxing. Al didn't leave his sentry duty by his brother's bed, sheltering the teen's sleep and protecting him from the monsters. There was certainly nothing more he could do.

--

Roy knew what he _should_ do; that wasn't the issue. It was a matter of what he _could_ do. He _should_ have gone home to scrounge whatever sleep he could for what was sure to be a physically and emotionally exhausting day. But it was the things he _couldn't_ do that stood in the way: he _couldn't_ get that boy's face out of his mind's eye, _couldn't_ stop the names on that list from resounding in his head, _couldn't_ keep his thoughts away from things better left untouched.

So Roy was once again turning to the thing that always kept his thoughts at bay, even though he knew he _shouldn't_.

"One more."

"Looks to me like 'one more' will put you under the table," the bartender cautioned with some concern.

"I'm fine!" Roy snapped hazily. "Please, one more drink before I go home."

"I hope you're not planning on driving there yourself."

"No," a firm, familiar voice from behind Roy said as hands clamped his shoulders. "We'll be taking him from here. And he doesn't need one more, thanks."

Roy leaned back to see his subordinates arrayed behind him. Havoc steered him up and towards the door while Riza retrieved Roy's keys where they had fallen. "What… what're you guys doin' here?" Roy slurred.

"You're an easy man to track, Colonel," Breda told him gruffly. "Once we realized you weren't back at your apartment, you have relatively few haunts."

Roy's drunken brain took offense at the comment. In his mind, he thought Breda was implying that he was a loser. "I can be wherever I damn well want to be, and I shouldn't have to worry about diversifying my practices to avoid detection!"

Havoc laughed dryly as he forced Roy into the car. "You know, Colonel, you are the most literate drunk I know."

--

The ride back to Roy's apartment was littered with drunken slurs and vague threats involving flames and demotions that ended only when he dashed to his bathroom and had no more room for speech.

As he heaved the contents of his stomach (which was in fact bereft of food and consisted almost entirely of alcohol) into his none-too-clean toilet bowl, Roy felt cool hands run across his burning face, stroking back his sweat-drenched hair. After he had spit as much of the taste out of his mouth as he could, the hands guided him to lean against a distinctly feminine chest. He was held there until his breathing slowed, and the hands wiped away the tears that had fallen without his knowing when, or even particularly why.

Slowly, Riza helped him to stand. Roy stumbled into the living room with her support, and she released him onto the couch.

Roy was feeling much closer to sober after having expelled most of the alcohol from his system, and with sobriety came a distinct embarrassment at what he had been shouting at his subordinates. "Why did you come looking for me?" he demanded, shooting daggers at the men that had made themselves at home in his living room. Embarrassment made Roy defensive, and the best defense was, after all, a good offense.

"DUI doesn't help you get promoted, Colonel," Havoc told him sharply

"None of us have seen you for three days," Fuery told him, trying to mask his concern with a light, conversational tone. "We haven't heard anything from you since you ordered Havoc and Hawkeye to leave the hospital…not since you found out about what happened to Ed."

Roy covered his eyes with a hand; no doubt Hawkeye and Havoc had felt obliged to share the information with the rest of his staff. "I've been working with the SVU; I've already made that clear. What more do you want from me?"

"How about the decency to tell us what's going on?" Falman proposed blandly. "To let us know how the investigation is going, and if Fullmetal is okay?"

"We're close, but we haven't caught any of the perpetrators yet," Roy replied promptly. "And Ed… Ed isn't talking to anyone."

"What do you mean, he isn't talking to anyone?" Havoc demanded.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Roy replied forcefully, sitting up. His head began to spin. "I'll handle everything; you don't need to worry."

"There's just the slight problem that we _are worrying_," Breda interjected.

"Colonel," Riza said quietly. "You need to stop harboring the delusion that you're the only one who is concerned about Edward. We've known him since he started serving under you, and we've all grown to care for him." She paused a moment as Roy absorbed her words. "You're not the only one who needs to bear this burden. You aren't alone, Roy."

--

(AN: A quick explanation: I figured that, since Ed must have quit going to school after, like, fifth grade, Amestris probably doesn't have any laws about kids being in school, so that's why Olli could drop out without people asking about it. Please review!)


	8. Chapter 8

(AN: Hey everybody. It's the next chapter after, what, over a year? I'm leaving the hiatus status up because I have no idea when the next will come. I'd like to think that it WILL come, though.

I had most of this for many, many months, except for Ed's scene. That took a lot of ignoring and writing around until it finally hit me. Still not everything I want, but it exists. I wanted to do some more editing, but I know I won't have the energy for that for a while. As it is, thank you to everyone who reviewed in my long absence. The random reviews kept reminding me that I needed to do something with this. I'll try to keep working on this, though I still don't know when the next installment will be up. Thank you for reading.)

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Roy stood on the stairs, apart from his comrades. The Investigators and Izumi were arrayed on the raised platform that overlooked the SVU's central workings, surrounding Olli as he sat on the couch and hesitantly munched a breakfast Izumi had brought for him. Roy kept a decent distance because, despite how convincingly he'd lied to his subordinates, he had quite a hangover and thought it best to stay in people-free air.

"My name," Olli began with a deep breath, "is Adolphe Grevèr. My father's name is Richard Grevèr. My mother killed herself when I was six, and he got full custody of me. It wasn't bad back then. He ignored me mostly—he barely saw me, he was at work all the time. But I liked it best that way. I'd always do something wrong when he was around, and he'd yell at me or hit me. It was okay, though, as long as I didn't get in his way; and he bought me lots of comics to keep me busy. Then… things started changing." He had been lifting a mouthful towards his lips, but instead glanced at the fork and set it back down. "A bit before I turned eleven, he started spending time with me. He'd take me to the park and the zoo; he taught me how to swim. For a little while, it really felt like we were father and son. But… he kept looking at me, in this way that…. I didn't know what it meant then." His teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed. "I know now, though. It's the look he gave every one of them."

"The others on that list?" Elliot asked him gently. Olli nodded. "Could you tell us about that?"

Olli shrugged as he heaved a sigh. "The first few I never saw. They were kids from far away, usually when he went on business trips. Places where people didn't know him. He liked to tell me about it. Then, when he was out of town, he met _her_. I don't know how they got together, but after that he went along with her. Changed how and who he attacked for her. She's the one who picked Edward."

The many listeners' attention immediately sharpened. "One of the women who raped Ed?" Olivia asked. "What can you tell us about those two?"

Olli chewed his lip, eyes cast down. "She's just a few years older than me, and she had really pretty black hair. But she's… twisted, evil. She's the one who suggested to Daddy that I watch, and…" he trailed off, shuddering involuntarily. "The older lady came with her. She doesn't say much."

"Why were they leaving your house the other day?" Munch questioned.

"Cleaning up," Olli replied. "The older lady always cleans up the basement after an attack. The younger one comes with her, because the older one never goes anywhere without her."

"Do you know their names, or where they live?" Finn asked him.

"Uh-uh… but I'm almost certain Daddy does!" Olli added hurriedly, not wanted them to question his usefulness. His face and voice became shadowed with concern. "You… you will protect me, won't you? I don't want to go back there…"

"Of course," Elliot replied, leaning toward him. "But the best way we can do that is to get your father locked up. Can you help us do that?"

Olli nodded comprehensively. "He always leaves for a few days after an attack, then calls me before he comes back to check if everything is okay. If I tell him he's safe, he'll go back to the house, and you can catch him."

"Okay then, we need to get a line set up so calls to that house come to us," Cragen said.

"I'll get our tech guys on it," Finn volunteered.

"There's no need for that," Roy spoke suddenly for the first time. All looked to him in surprise; he smiled ruefully. "Though I seem to have forgotten it recently, I've got quite competent people on my side."

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"Havoc, I want you and Falman inside that house until we've caught this freak. It ought to be any day now, so I want you in there and no one the wiser. Breda, once we get the call, you'll get a car and wait on that street incase he tries to run. Hawkeye, we'll find you a perch. If he starts to escape, shoot him; but only enough to take him down. We need him for questioning." Roy cracked out orders rapidly, falling seamlessly back into his usual role.

"Yes, sir!"

Roy turned to where Fuery was genially chatting with the SVU's technical man. "Fuery, how long until that line is functional?"

"Already done," he replied promptly. "Any calls to that house will automatically be redirected to this phone. Lt. Colonel Hughes got us all the information we needed for it."

"I almost feel unnecessary now," Munch muttered to Izumi as they stood back, observing Roy. She smiled briefly as Aubrey gave a dry chuckle.

"Yo, partner of mine, get your ass over here," Finn called Munch to the other side of the room, leaving the two women relatively alone.

"I plan on stopping by to see how Ed is soon," Aubrey let Izumi know. "If all goes well, it looks like we'll need him for a line-up soon anyway."

Izumi nodded. "He let his brother see him last night. Last I knew, he was still with him."

"That's good!" Aubrey smiled. "It shows that he's realizing he'll be able to return to his life in some form." She glanced from Izumi to Roy and back again. "I should think that, with so many people who love him, he'll be able to heal fine."

"Did your brother?" Izumi asked her abruptly.

Aubrey flinched. "What?" was her breathy response.

"You told Adolphe that your brother had been raped. That's what changed, why you came here instead of going to some lab."

Aubrey nodded numbly.

"So? How did he recover?" She seemed genuinely interested, possibly thinking to her own future circumstances.

Aubrey's face and voice grew distant. "He never had the chance. His case was ruled a rape-homicide."

"We need to track down anyone from the list we can." Cragen's voice spared Izumi from replying. "We can't be sure where to look for Grevèr's victims when he was alone, so our best bet is to work backwards and see who we can find."

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"Andrew P. Lafayette committed suicide ten months ago."

"Ryan K. Inglewood was reported missing three months ago and is now considered a runaway."

"Come on, is this all we can find?" Cragen demanded.

"We could run the names in the newspaper," Roy suggested. "Ask anyone on the list to come forward."

Cragen looked at him. "You want to announce to everyone who knows these boys that they were raped?"

"They've got nothing to be ashamed of. They're just kids who've been hurt. No one could possibly claim they asked for it."

"No matter how true that is, we can't broadcast what's been done to them to the public. They might not be able to deal with all and sundry knowing."

"What was done to them is done. Whether no one or everyone knows, that won't change."

Cragen sighed, searching for a way to make him understand. "I'll bet you haven't thought of Ed the same since you learned he was raped. The moment you found out, your perception of him changed."

Roy tensed and opened his mouth, but soon looked away without having replied.

"I found someone!" Olivia called. "Taylor S. Winston, living with his mother on the upper west side. They're on file because they receive state support—Major Winston was killed in the line of duty."

"Alright. Olivia, take someone and see if he'll be willing to talk," Cragen commanded. "Everyone else, keep working here. Make sure Adolphe can answer Grevèr's call when he needs to."

"I'll come with you," Roy volunteered to Olivia.

Elliot, who had already stood, looked quizzically at the man.

Roy's face was grim. "I knew Taylor, a bit. His father was once a friend of mine."

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The first thing Ed realized as he woke was that his hand still rested limply in Al's. The second was that Al was on the opposite side than when Ed fell asleep. Curious as to this, he immediately sat up—and blinked in shock.

"Oh, Ed! I hope I didn't wake you up earlier. I was helping them carry these in," Al gestured around the room.

"These" obviously referred to the myriad bouquets, cards, and baskets that now occupied a large portion of his room. Ed blinked a bit more.

"They came in this morning," Al told him. "Here…"

And Al began handing him packages and notes, a new one waiting as soon as he was done with the first. There was one signed by the Colonel's whole office, each signature following a short message—a few light-hearted and not even hinting what they knew had happened, at least one deeply heartfelt. The Hugheses had sent him a package complete with a small pie from Gracia and a get-well-soon card hand-made by Elysia (accompanied by a new picture of the creator, doubtlessly placed by Hughes). A basket from Armstrong, Ross, and Brock held some of the same books, comics, and games that he'd amused himself with during the hospital stay they'd kept him company for. No one seemed to have much to say to him, but Armstrong's particular lack of extensive monologue or flourished speech hit Ed in a way that what he viewed as empty assurances of support couldn't.

There were also tokens of people he only knew as a technicality: brief acquaintances and military officials he ran into with some frequency (including the standard melon from the Fuhrer himself). Though Ed couldn't manage to feel particularly moved by these, and indeed felt a buried resentment at the thought of them taking a mild interest at what was done to him, there was another set to awaken a whole range of emotions.

Ed was confused when he opened the first letter from an unfamiliar name—a reaction which quickly snapped to anger with a reference to a newspaper article and the realization that anyone with twenty-five cenz could read about what happened to him. However, he gritted his teeth and read on; and soon his jaw relaxed and, indeed, dropped as he found letter upon letter from the denizens of Central, people he'd never met and who'd never met him, yet somehow inexplicably cared about him. Not all of them were heartfelt-though-meaningless hopes and prayers, either.

A woman from Central's surrounding countryside wrote about being assaulted while on vacation. A father told about his daughter's kidnapping. A teenage girl. A grown man. An elderly woman. These weren't a large percentage of the mailings, but they were there: real people who not only sympathized with him, but could _empathize_. These were people who had been through horrible, degrading ordeals; not the same as his, not the same as each other's, but all linked. People who'd suffered, and endured, and still cared enough to _tell him about it_.

Ed knew it was impossible, but if he'd had a choice in any of this, he knew he never would have told anyone. He didn't want anyone to know how he'd been dirty and used; but he'd told, because he was scared and hurt and there was nothing else to do. These people… they told him, because they thought that maybe, just maybe, it would make him feel better. And, he was shocked to realize, it had.

"Brother?" Alphonse asked hesitantly, lowering himself back by Edward's side. "Can I do something?"

"What are you talking ab--?" Ed stopped as he realized his voice was heavy with tears. He brought the back of his hands to his face and wiped them away, sniffing slightly. He turned to his brother and gave him a strong, watery smile. "Don't worry, Al. I'm fine."

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Roy knocked on the door in what he hoped was a friendly manner. There were footsteps and a pause before several locks clicked out of place and the door opened a few inches, tethered by a steel chain. "What is it?" the woman on the other side asked tensely.

Both Olivia and Roy were momentarily thrown off balance: it was broad daylight in a clean, affluent neighborhood. Such precautions could scarcely be necessary.

"Mrs. Winston," Roy recovered quickly. "We were acquainted once. I'm sure you don't remember me, but..."

"Major Mustang," Mrs. Winston cut in. "You were a friend of George. He lost touch with you when you were stationed at East City."

"I was so sorry to hear about his death. I understand the perpetrators were brought to justice?"

She nodded. "He was killed breaking up a drug ring. They're all behind bars or in the ground now. It was his first case on Narcotics, too." She glanced at Olivia, then back at Roy. "I don't mean to be impolite, but I'm really not at my leisure right now. What is it you're here for?"

"It would really help us out if we could speak to Taylor. Is he here?" Roy asked as steadily as he could.

She tensed suddenly, snapping, "Why?"

"Mrs. Winston, we know about your son's rape," Olivia announced gently.

Mrs. Winston's eyes darkened. "You're mistaken. My son's never been harmed."

"His name is on a list that a pedophile kept of all the children he abused."

"You're mistaken!" Her voice was shaking as she slammed the door, locks clicking into place quickly.

Roy, looking shocked, raised his hand to knock again, but Olivia stayed him. "Don't. If she doesn't want to tell us, we can't even prove that the Taylor S. Winston on the list is her son."

They turned away from the house and back to the car. "I can't believe she wouldn't help us," Roy said sullenly. "She always cared about her family—I would think she would do anything to help them."

"Her son gets raped and her husband gets murdered—that would change anyone." Olivia hesitated, then continued. "About Major Winston's murder…"

"You think our rapists had their hand in it?" Roy finished for her.

"You're on the right track—just a bit backwards," a voice contradicted them suddenly. They spun towards the speaker as he stepped out from behind the car towards them—a teenaged boy of Xingan descent.

"What?" Roy demanded.

"I am Ryan K. Inglewood," he replied matter-of-factly. "Mine is the ninth name on that list."


End file.
